


The Talk

by Whytejigsaw



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humour, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-19 07:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whytejigsaw/pseuds/Whytejigsaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Prompt: from Purpleyin’s Sherlock/Molly prompt meme<br/>Sherlock and Molly become romantically involved, with things proceeding on the slower side because it is a little tricky for them both. At some point however, something suggests that sex is probably pretty imminent - and everyone else finds out.</p><p>At which point, people keep trying to tell Sherlock about the birds and the bees, which is ridiculous, yet he can’t seem to make it stop. John. Mycroft. (And anyone else you want to include) And most horrifyingly, Mrs. Hudson.</p><p>Of course, he complains about all of this to Molly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Molly

**Author's Note:**

> Some chapters will be much shorter than others. Hope you enjoy it.

Molly sometimes wondered if she would wake up for real in a psychiatric institution. What other reason could there be to explain her nascent relationship with Sherlock Holmes, noted consulting detective, loner and self-proclaimed sociopath? Sure, she’d helped fake his death, patched up his injuries and sheltered him after the Moriarty Incident but this, she liked to think, was the sort of thing she would do for any close friend. It had nothing to do with romantic feelings. Not At All.

Ok, so she was lying to herself a little bit there. But it didn’t explain how Sherlock had gone from indifferent to cataloguing her different types of laugh and what they meant.

He said it was gradual but for Molly the change was instantaneous. One day, not long after he’d resurrected, he had appeared in her apartment, almost like he had beamed there. Of course, he’d just used the key he’d failed to give back. Molly came out of the kitchen holding a plate of dinner and a glass of wine. Luckily, she didn’t see him until she’d put it down and he said quietly: “Ah there you are, Molly.”

“Sherlock! What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

He held up a key in explanation.

“I’m relaxing.”

“Well, clearly, but couldn’t you do that at Baker St, or, you know, if I had invited you over?”

“It didn’t seem likely that you would invite me over, so I invited myself.”

“Why?”

Enforced proximity to the detective had made Molly less afraid of him. Horrendous laboratory experiments in her kitchen had made her learn to shout at him. 

“I wanted to see you.”  
Molly raised an eyebrow suspiciously. This sort of behaviour was normally only forthcoming at the morgue, normally followed by a request for body parts. As it turned out, it was a request for body parts, of sorts.

“I should perhaps be clearer.”

“Yes, do be clear,” said Molly, taking up his tone.

“Well, all that time we spent together after my fall, I used got used to having you around. And when I went back to Baker St, you weren’t there.”

“Oh right, good deduction there, Sherlock!”

“Shut up! I’m trying to say something here.”

“Yes, well, spit it out.”

“I would be amenable to an arrangement where I saw you more often and more of you. What do you think?”

Keeping her eyes on his, Molly reached for her glass of red wine and drank a large gulp. She slowly put it back on the table before speaking.

“So, just to be clear, you want us to be better friends.”

“No. I want us to be more than friends,” his voice was lower now, as if he were ashamed to admit it.

Molly gave a nervous laugh and grabbed her glass for another sip.

“You want to be my boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Do you understand what that means?”

She was treated to a classic Sherlock scowl in response.

“Well, we’ll have to take it slowly.”

“Why bother? We already know each other very well.”

“Because that’s what I want, and you’ll need a lot of time to get used to the sort of activities that I heard you slagging John about only last week.”

“You mean we would have to go out in public together.”

“Yes, that’s what happens when you’re seeing someone. Also, you phone them regularly just hear their voice and see how they are.”

“But you would just tell me if something was wrong…and when I see you, I know how you are from looking at you.”

“You have a lot to learn.”

“Can we start now then?”

“Yes, you can get me more wine from the kitchen while I eat my dinner.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

“I know.”

Miraculously, from the man who made other people get his phone from his own pocket, he complied.

In truth, Molly felt she needed the second glass to absorb this information fully. After finishing her tea, she was ready to resume the conversation. She moved over to the couch and sat beside Sherlock, facing him.

“So. Before we proceed with this, I want information.”

“Naturally. What do you want to know?”

“Previous history.”

“None.”

“None at all?”

“No. I’ve been fully committed to my work for many years now.”

“But what about when you were in college?” Molly struggled to wrap her head around his total inexperience.

“I had better things to do.”

“Right. Er. Ok. Daunting.”

“What is? I assure you I’m a fast learner.”

Molly scooted over closer to him.

“Do you want some wine?”

“Why? Oh, you think I need to relax? I’m fine. I already smoked half packet of cigarettes while making the decision to come over here.” Seeing the look on her face, he added “It was yesterday. I’ve given up again now.”

“It took you a day to work up the guts to come over here?! You idiot.”  
Sherlock was not used to being called an idiot. He folded his arms in a huff.

“You’ll have to learn to take teasing if you’re to have a girlfriend,” rebuked Molly gently. “But there’s good stuff too.”

Molly reached for his face and turning him towards her, leaned in for a kiss. What started as a gentle peck on the lips broke Molly’s outer calm. Snogging Sherlock Holmes! Not for a case. Or science. Because they both wanted it. He really is an idiot if he thought I wouldn’t reciprocate!

Quite quickly, Sherlock had pulled Molly onto his knee and pulling away from the kiss, a little breathless, began to inspect her as if through a microscope.

“You’ve gone red in the face. A sign of arousal.”

“So have you.”

Sherlock looked torn between continuing his catalogue and getting up to look in the mirror but he stayed put. He ran his fingers through her long ponytail. It was deliciously soft to the touch and smelled of lavender. Molly happily cuddled into him, her face nuzzling his neck, counting freckles up close. As he felt her warm breath on his neck, Sherlock knew he’d made the right decision.


	2. Mycroft

“Anthea, could you come in here for a moment?”

“Anthea” appeared in his office.

“Yes, boss,” she glanced up from her phone, as she hit send on a text.

“Go out to a bookshop and buy this book.” He handed her a piece of paper, folded in half.

A look of intense surprise quickly passed over her face and then she resumed her usual “bored but amused” look.

“No problem.”

“Wrap up it too please. Silver paper. Red bow.”

“Where should I send it?”

“It’s on the back of the piece of paper.”

She nodded and left.

“That should do it,” said Mycroft, out loud to his empty office.

oOo  
Sherlock was out early that morning and when he came home, John was not there.

A package had come. Silver paper. Red bow. Addressed to him. Obviously hand-delivered. Something told him to open it upstairs and not in the hallway where Mrs Hudson might appear.

Once alone, he carefully untied the bow and slit one end of the package open. Removing the contents, the smile was wiped off his face. It was a book “Let’s Talk about Sex.” It was accompanied by a note.

Dear Sherlock,

I realise I have been most remiss in my fraternal duties but it never seemed relevant until now. Happy reading.

M.

Sherlock whipped out his phone and took a photo of the offending book. He sent it to Molly with the message “Look what my arse of a brother sent me. I’m coming over later to check for cameras.”

And he sent the following to his brother.

M.  
Bugger off.  
S

Taking the book into his bedroom and putting it on the shelf, Sherlock thought he better check his own place for cameras too.

oOo

Mycroft grinned at his brother’s text: very mature. He was quite pleased that Sherlock was finally interested in someone. That Adler case had been worrisome but luckily he had only seemed interested in her mind. Molly was a much better choice: more rounded. Perhaps he’d visit her in due course.


	3. John; part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John talks to Sherlock about Molly for the first time.

“Sorry, you’ll have to say it again.”

“Really, John? I said Molly is my girlfriend now. I don’t know why I’m repeating myself. Have you had your hearing checked recently?”

“What?”

“I said….oh bugger off you.”

John smirked. “Couldn’t resist it. But seriously, are you sure? Molly is crazy about you – obvious for even us mere mortals to see.”  
“Is it so hard to believe that I might be just as crazy about her?”

John’s folded arms indicated his position on the matter.

“Well, we’re taking it slowly – her suggestion, not mine.”

“I think that’s a very good idea. It’s not exactly your area.”

“Why does everyone presume that?”

“Well, they’ve met you, haven’t they? And I’m sure I don’t need to remind me you said it yourself, the day we met.”

“I only said that because I was concerned you were coming onto me.”

“And you say you’re never wrong.”

“She’s coming over later, so you better be nice.”

“The irony of Sherlock Holmes telling me to be nice. I cannot wait to see you two together.”

John got his chance a few hours later. Sherlock had tried to persuade him to go out but, apart from going out to buy milk, he wasn’t budging. As he reached the front door, he met Molly, who was just about to ring the doorbell.

“Oh hi, John.”

“Hi Molly, let me get the door for you.”

They walked in and up the stairs together. It was on the tip of John’s tongue to make some kind of comment or warn her but he decided it was best to keep out of it. She had clearly made an effort with her appearance but it wasn’t what he would have expected. Her clothes fitted her and showed off her tiny figure. He was so used to seeing her in comfy work clothes, he’d never noticed how minute she was. No doubt Sherlock had. What was she getting herself in for?

He opened the door to the flat and made for the kitchen. 

“Sherlock, Molly’s here.”

He appeared out of his room and nodded to John.

“Hi,” said Molly, managing to sound breathless, excited, nervous and giddy all at once.

They stood there looking at each other. John watched: clearly they were still figuring it out. If she were his girlfriend, she would have been hugged and kissed by now. But this was Sherlock. They were going to have to have a chat later, after she left.

Slowly, as if not to scare him, Molly sidled up to Sherlock and put a small hand on his cheek.

“How are you?”

“I’m well. New clothes?”

“Yes. Do you approve?”

“Indeed.”

“Are you going to kiss me hello?”

“Not while John is treating us like theatre…”

John held up his hands and headed for the door.

“Sherlock, you’ll have to get used to it sometime. If you can’t kiss me in front of John, how will you manage the rest of the city?!”

“Quiet now, I believe you wanted a kiss.”

He looped her arms around his neck and leaned in for a kiss. Their height difference continued to be an issue, so he scooped her up in his arms. Molly let out an excited “oh”. Clearly not used to be lifted, but then, what adult was?

After an hour or so, John deemed it safe to go down and make a cup of tea. He stomped down the stairs, making extra noise so they would hear him and opened the door to find them…intently playing scrabble.

“Now, Molly, you might not know this word, but I assure you it is a word,” Sherlock was saying, as he placed the letters QUPIX down on the board.

“Don’t give me that nonsense – there’s no way it’s a word, and we’re checking it.”

“No, I promise you it is.”

“My arse,” she replied as she flicked through the dictionary.

“Ahem, have you ever played Scrabble before, Sherlock?” asked John.

“Of course.”

“So this is a tactical telling of 5/7 letters?”

“Exactly!”

“Right, I’m just making some tea. Anyone?”

“Yes please,” said Molly, swiftly followed by “aha, I told you so. You’ll be missing a go. Not so clever now are you!”

Sherlock scowled at her. She reached out and petted his hand.

“It’s ok, I’ll let you make it up to me later.”

“I don’t see how. You didn’t bring any lab equipment or samples to play with.”

John shook his head sadly. That man had so much to learn. He was clearly going to have to take him to task.

After Molly won the game, and they’d had tea, she headed home, leaving the two flatmates alone.

“So,” said John.

“You have something to say.”

“Well, yes.”

Sherlock exhaled loudly in a put-upon manner and swung his legs up on the couch. He waved his hand “get on with it then”.

“You’d do well to listen to me, Sherlock. I know you’ve never had a girlfriend before.”

Sherlock made to interrupt him but John was not deterred.

“Don’t try to deny it. That display when she arrived was enough evidence. If Molly were my girlfriend, and she was dressed like that, well, I would have greeted her differently.”

“What would you have done?” asked Sherlock, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Well, for a start, actually stand up, I’ll have to demonstrate.”

Sherlock sighed loudly but got up.

“Right, well, the first thing you do when you see your GIRLFRIEND, is verbally acknowledge her. Hi Molly. Then you compliment her. You look great.”

“I did compliment her. I said “new clothes?”

“Noticing that she had new clothes is a good step, but just saying “new clothes” is not in itself a compliment. Then, you give her a hug. C’mere you.”

John suddenly found himself hugging Sherlock.

“And then, when she looks up at you with those lovely brown adoring eyes, you kiss her.”

Sherlock leaned down as if to kiss John, and like lightening, John slipped away. His flatmate smirked broadly.

“Right, well, that wasn’t at all weird. But I think my point is proven. Acknowledge, compliment, hug and kiss. Have you got it?” said John.

“Yes,” replied Sherlock, quite meekly.

“And then…”

“Are we not done with lessons?”

“Of course not, you’ve got decades of catching up here. She’s not going to be patient for ever you know. Sooner or later, and given the length of time she’s been hanging on your every word, I’m guessing sooner, you two are going to get physical.”

“Stop it right there! First, Mycroft, now you. I know how to have sex!” yelled Sherlock.

“Knowing how and actually doing it are two different kettles of fish.”

“I really must insist that we terminate this conversation topic.”

“Fine,” relented John, “but I bet you a month’s rent you’ll be back asking me for help within a fortnight.”

“Fine,” said Sherlock huffily. “But you’re wrong.”

“We’ll see.”

"What did Mycroft say?"

"Shut up. We're not talking about it."

"For now..."


	4. Mrs Hudson

Part 3: Mrs Hudson

Mrs Hudson was on her way home from a lovely evening gossiping with Mrs Turner. She rounded the corner onto Baker St and stopped dead just before Speedys. Even with his back turned, Sherlock was unmistakeable. He was standing at the railings of 221 kissing, well, she couldn’t quite see who, but someone small and therefore likely female. Whoever she was, it was a very involved kiss. Neither of them seemed to notice her standing just a few metres away. Mrs Hudson dithered while she stared. The young lady’s hands were in his hair but the rest of her was almost completely hidden by his enormous coat. After a minute or two, Sherlock came up for air and without turning around, he said  
“Don’t you want to go in, Mrs Hudson?”

The young lady emitted a squawk and thumped him on the arm.

“Sherlock! Why didn’t you stop sooner?” she cried, revealing herself to be Molly Hooper, that nice pathologist from the hospital.

Despite the dark, Molly blushed furiously, while Sherlock looked unapologetic, and opened the front door for Mrs Hudson.

She pursed her lips and marched through it, without saying anything. It could wait.

“Oh dear, have we upset her?” asked Molly

“Not in the slightest. That is a woman whose husband murdered several people. She’s hardly bothered by some kissing!” replied Sherlock.

“Perhaps I should be going anyway….”

“I recall you were leaving 30 minutes ago.”

“Yes, I thought it was surprisingly gentlemanly of you to want to walk me to the Tube.”

“I think you’ll be alright from here, won’t you, Molly?”

She could see that glazed look of thoughts elsewhere in his eyes and so nodded her head.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yes, probably…”

Molly kissed him quickly one more time and headed off.

Sherlock stood there for a moment, wondering if he could get away with a sneaky smoke, decided against it and went in. He expected Mrs Hudson to be in the hall, but he was off the hook for now: the coast was clear.

oOo

Mrs Hudson rose early the following morning and got started with cleaning her kitchen. This was followed by baking: scones, bakewell tart and banoffee pie. By late afternoon, everything was ready. Her impeccable sense of timing, and knowledge of her boys meant that within 10 minutes, she heard their voices in the hallway.

She poked her head around the door.

“Oh hello, boys. I’m glad you’re home.”

“Something wrong, Mrs Hudson?” inquired John. They were both really fond of their landlady and only too happy to assist.

“Nothing at all.”

“Is that delicious smell coming from your kitchen?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes, Sherlock, dear, come in for a moment.”

“I have some things to do upstairs.”

“Right now, please. Give John your coat. John, he’ll be up later and will bring you a selection tray.”

Sherlock shot a terrified look at John, who shrugged and started up the stairs.

Sherlock followed Mrs Hudson into her flowery 70s style kitchen, where she had laid out a spread of afternoon tea. His stomach suddenly reminded him he’d eaten nothing that day and he looked hopefully at the food, while knowing there would be some unpleasant trade off.

“Sit down, dear.”

“Why do I feel like I’ve been called to the Headmistress’s office for punishment by cake?” he asked.

“I don’t know, Sherlock, have you done something naughty?”

“Mrs Hudson, I’m a grown adult, I haven’t done anything naughty in about 25 years.”

“Indeed. Care to explain what I witnessed last night then?”

“I thought it might be about that. It’s none of your business you know.”

“None of my business? Well, I’m sure it is: my doorstep, my tenant, my walls that will suffer if something goes wrong. What is going on? I hope this isn’t some game of yours. She’s a nice girl.”

“Why does everyone assume I must want something from her?!” exclaimed Sherlock.

Mrs Hudson said nothing, but pushed the plate of scones towards him. Sherlock saw himself take one and start buttering. When he had a mouthful, she started again.

“Well, of course, if you really like her, then I am delighted. Do you really like her?”

Sherlock nodded.

“And this isn’t a ruse to get a bowl of eyeballs or something else disgusting?”

“Of course not! She would give me those without faking a relationship.”  
Too late, Sherlock realised he’d said that last part out loud.

Mrs Hudson hmmmed disapprovingly.

“Sherlock, dear, have you ever had a girlfriend before?”

“Really, Mrs Hudson, do we have to get into details?”

She said nothing.

“No, alright, happy now?”

“Not in the slightest. You will have to get lessons from John.”

“What? No I don’t.”

“Sherlock, ladies don’t want to be taken to crime scenes, or spend time in laboratories analysing whatever it is you study. They want romance, and flowers, and nice dinners. Have some bakewell tart.”

“Molly isn’t that sort of woman.”

Mrs Hudson tutted. “Are we talking about the same person who has a pink blog with kittens? I assure you she does want to be spoiled and loved. And she deserves it!”

Sherlock looked a bit horrified now. Mrs Hudson was reading Molly’s blog. He needed to warn her off posting ever again.

“So if you haven’t had a girlfriend before, you probably haven’t had a lot of experience physically either.”

“Mrs Hudson, I implore you, stop talking right now.”

“No, no, it’s quite alright. I was married once, you know, and I have an arrangement with…..”

Sherlock actually stuck his fingers in his ears now and said “lallalalallalalalala”.

“Oh don’t be such a prude. I just want you to remember that you need to be gentle, take it slowly. I know you’re not used to touching people all the time but it’s a big part of a relationship, Sherlock, and you must get it right. Also, don’t forget that ladies take longer to finish.”

At this last sentence, Sherlock pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Alright, run along, take this plate of cake to John, good boy.”

Sherlock ran out of the room.

“I’m glad we had this talk,” she called after him, but he was already up the stairs.  
He flung the door open and thrust the plate at John.

“You look like thunder. What happened?”

“John, I am scarred for life and can never repeat it. Did you put Mrs Hudson up to that that that talk?”

“No. I’m entirely clueless here, mate. Unless you mean the fact that she sat you down and talked to you about sex because she was worried when she saw the way you were kissing Molly last night?”

John calmly walked towards the kitchen.

“Tea?”

Sherlock nodded dumbly. He was never going to be able to delete that memory, no matter how hard he tried.


	5. Molly & the Met

Part 4:

Sherlock and Molly were lying on her bed. His head rested in his hands as he stretched out.

“You see, I told you this would be more comfortable than your tiny person couch,” he admonished.

“There’s no television in here, though. One of two things will happen. Either we’ll fall asleep or start snogging.”

“I’m amenable to either of these options. Can talking be part of both of them?”

“Of course.” Molly snuggled into Sherlock’s side and snuck one of her legs between his.

“So Mrs Hudson’s had a chat with me, and then John explained it.”

“Oh really – so she was upset?”

“Yes, but not in the way you thought. She thinks I’m a bad kisser.”

Molly rose up on her elbow with a look of horror.

“No, I haven’t been kissing her. It’s just from her observation.”

“Right,” mused Molly.

“But she’s wrong, isn’t she?”

“Well, you’re very enthusiastic…”

“Are you saying I’m not good at it?”

“No, not at all. I mean, that came out wrong. You just need more practice. Let’s practice now, in fact.”

Molly rolled on top of Sherlock and attacked him. He did his best to keep up but entirely failed. Then she stopped abruptly.

“See that’s a bit like what you do.”

“I see. What would you prefer?”

“Well, obviously, one has to take the mood and situation into account. Greeting kisses would be different to goodbye kisses and in this current scenario, we might start out slowly.”

“I think you should demonstrate.”

“That’s the closest you’ll ever get to asking, isn’t it?”

Molly leaned back over and kissed him on the cheek, and then trailed kisses across to his ear. She whispered, “it’s important to know what the other person likes,” as she sucked his earlobe into her mouth. Sherlock gasped at the sensation and pulled her in tighter to him.

“You see, now I know you like that, I can do it again.”

“I imagine that’s more of challenge with earrings in, if I were to reciprocate,” he replied.

“Well noticed.”

“Would it not be more efficient for us to tell each other these things?”

“What would be the fun in that? Besides, you probably don’t know what you like beyond the really obvious.”

She kissed him again, now on the lips but keeping them closed. He tried to deepen the kiss but she resisted. 

“No, you prolong the anticipation and you heighten the experience. The Germans have a word for it: vorfreude,” explained Molly.

“I didn’t know you could speak German.”

“You don’t know everything. Contrary to what you might think: I am a woman of great mystery.”

“It’s true. I don’t know, for example, if you like being kissed on the collarbone,” Sherlock replied, dropping a light kiss there, “or at the nape of your neck”, as he tried there, “or if you want me to run my fingers along your spine.” 

At this last, Molly shivered.

“That was a good shiver?” he asked.

“Oh yes.”

“Good, let’s experiment some more. I may need a notebook…”

Part 5: The Met

Lestrade, Sherlock and John walked away from the crime scene.

“Thanks, Sherlock. We really needed you on that one.”

“Of course you did.”

Sherlock’s phone beeped.

“John…”

Long-suffering John actually put his hand in Sherlock’s pocket and brought out his phone.

“It’s a text from your girlfriend. She says “working late, see you tomorrow” and she’s put 2 xs which represent kisses.”

Lestrade looked up sharply.

“What’s this?”

“Sherlock is dating Molly,” replied John.

“Huh? Molly Hooper? Sweet pathologist Molly Hooper? I don’t understand.”

“Understand, what, Chief?” asked Sally Donovan, falling into step with them.

“Sherlock is going out with Dr Hooper.”

“Ha! Good one.”

“No, really,” said John. “I’ve seen them together – it’s hilarious.”

“I am right here. Could you all stop pretending otherwise?” said Sherlock shortly.

“Oh, this is fantastic. The Freak has a girlfriend. Wait til I tell Anderson!”

“I think any discussion about my personal life is entirely unnecessary.”

Everyone just laughed at his naiveté.

“But seriously, Sherlock, be nice to her. She’s mad about you. And if you need any advice, we could always go for a pint.”

“Do I look like the sort of man who drinks pints?” asked Sherlock caustically.

“Well, no, actually, but I’m sure pubs have coffee these days.”

Sherlock just walked away. John look apologetically at Lestrade.

“Don’t take it too hard. He won’t even take advice from me and other people have been giving it a bit too freely. I think he feels he can handle this, even if that’s rubbish.”

“Maybe we should take into an interrogation room, handcuff to the table and make him listen. I like Molly, and she deserves better than him,” said Donovan.

“Sally, that’s a bit harsh. This could be the making of him. Maybe she’ll knock the edges off that cruel, sociopathic demeanour,” said Lestrade.

“Or maybe he’ll leave her in a puddle on the ground when the next big case takes his interest….” replied Sally.

“He won’t. I may not be allowed to give advice but I am monitoring the situation. Molly is a big girl. Sherlock may be her weak spot but never forget she is the woman who dumped Jim Moriarty,” reminded John. “I better dash or he’ll leave me to get home on my own again.”

John hurried to catch up with his flatmate.

“Sherlock, wait for me.”

He caught him just as Sherlock hailed a taxi.

“Don’t wait for me or anything…”

“Am I not still here? We’re in the same cab…stop complaining.”

“Hey, don’t take it out on me. They’re just trying to be nice. You have to remember you’ve got a reputation and no one ever accounted for the variable of you having a heart, never mind a girlfriend. You were only too happy to feed into that particular myth as well. You only have yourself to blame for this intense interest now. Just be glad I haven’t put up something on the blog!”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“No, I wouldn’t expose either of you to that kind of speculation. But all of these people, Mrs H, Lestrade, even Mycroft: we all care about you, and Molly. So suck it up.”

“Ok.”

“Are you ready to ask for advice then?”

“Oh bugger off! Anything I need to learn, he grimaced at this notion, can be taught to me by Molly.”

“Well, sure, for certain things, but sometimes, you need another man. And when you do, all you have to do is hand over a month’s rent and I’ll be only too happy to help. I’ll even wait til we’re finished before I smirk.”

“You are enjoying this far too much, John.”

“I hope you are too, that’s part of the fun of having a girlfriend.”


	6. The Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter: this first part is all done by text.

I hear you’re thinking about having dinner.  
IA

None of your business  
SH

Don’t you want my advice? I’m an expert on dinner, and women  
IA

Beyond chromosomes, you and she have nothing in common.  
SH

Apart from our mutual interest in you, of course  
IA

Sherlock did not deign to respond.

She strikes me as a traditional woman, so she’ll want you to make the moves. If you can handle it.  
IA

Not that traditional  
SH

Oh so you’ve had appetisers?  
IA

Will you stop with the food analogies and go away?  
SH

Alright. Here’s my advice: she needs to feel like she holds the cards, so let her lead you, but take charge quickly. Tiny, sentimental gifts rather than ostentatious expensive things (there we do differ). Take her for walks in the country. And wear more purple.  
IA

Wear more purple?  
SH

That’s all you got from that? There’s no hope for you.  
IA

Sherlock threw down his phone and entered his mind palace.

Some time later….

“…..and then I said to her we should go out some time and she agreed, which is fantastic.”

“What?”

“Are you talking to me, John?”

“You haven’t heard anything, have you?”

“Nope, been thinking.”

John noticed a conversation stream on Sherlock’s phone.

“Hey, what’s this?”

He scrolled through.

“Oh. You’ll take advice from her but not me. She’s a dominatrix, Sherlock. Her advice doesn’t apply to normal people.”

“I could hardly stop her from sending me texts, John.”

“No, but you did reply, encouraging her.”

“Well, past experience of that Woman showed that not replying didn’t stop the texts either, in fact, it made them more explicit.”

“It’s not bad advice actually.”

“Hmm.”

“I could always give you a male perspective…”

“No, thank you.”

“Fine, but I’d delete these messages in case your girlfriend happens to see your phone, like I did.”

Sherlock nodded and began deleting. He looked up at John.

“This does not constitute me accepting your advice in general. Just so we’re clear.”

“Crystal. There’s still a week left on our bet anyway. I wouldn’t tell Molly about that either.”

“I figured,” said Sherlock wryly.


	7. The Show & Tell

Molly walked along the corridor to the morgue, or her demesne, as she liked to call it. Very few people bothered her and when they did, they deferred to her knowledge and experience. She carried a heavy patient case file so when an arm appeared from an open door and pulled her inside, she almost lost balance and dropped the pages all over the floor. The hand that had grabbed her reached out to steady her and then pulled her in close. Molly took one look upwards and felt all her irritation melt away. Being in Sherlock’s arms was just not getting old.

“Hello,” said Sherlock.

“What are you doing in here?”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“Surprise achieved. Now help me pick all this up.”

Sherlock clearly had other plans. He leaned down and brushed her lips, tightening his grip so she could not escape.

What a dilemma, thought Molly, so unprofessional to be behaving like this at work. But, on the other hand, this is incredibly hot. Just go with it!

Suddenly Molly was turned in his arms and pushed up against the wall. He kissed along the back of her neck, while his hands came up to cradle her breasts.

“Oh Sherlock, what are you doing? This cannot happen at work…oh, just do that again first though.”

She could feel his trademark smirk against her shoulder blade.

“You want me to stop touching you?”

“Not really, but I’m at work…anyone could walk in!”

“I think that rather heightens the experience, don’t you?”

Sherlock dipped his hands into her trouser band and pulled out her shirt. What had happened to her labcoat was anyone’s guess. His hands were cold and Molly gasped as they skimmed her stomach and reached back up to her breasts.

“Please stop…I can’t believe I’m begging you to stop…”

“Neither can I…you’ve been begging me to do that with your eyes for years!”

Molly summoned heretofore unknown willpower and pushed away from Sherlock.

“Right…thanks for that reminder. Now, back to work.”

He reluctantly bent down to help her collect the paperwork and headed out the door in front of her. Molly couldn’t resist grabbing his arse as he did. Sherlock jumped in response and it was rather unfortunate that John chose that exact moment to come upon them. His eyes took in the shock on his flatmate’s face, Molly’s untucked shirt, and rose to meet her reddening cheeks. He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh John, hi, Sherlock was just helping me, er, with this….”

Sherlock was unabashed.

“Ah John, I wondered where you had gone. Let’s look at the new victim…”

Molly was left behind to rearrange her clothes and scurry to catch up.

“Sherlock, were you really just snogging Molly in a cupboard?”

“Problem?”

“No, I just wouldn’t have expected it of you.”

“Well, I’ve seen people doing it on television for years, wondered if there was something to it.”

“And?”

John was treated to a broad grin and silence.

“Just 5 days left…if you wanted to ask anything.”

“I don’t.”

“Ok…”

Later that same evening, Sherlock found himself outside Molly’s flat again. He increasingly just turned up here…he’d be walking along, deep in thought, and as if on auto-pilot, would arrive at her building.

When Molly opened the door, her whole face smiled at the sight of Sherlock.

“Hi! I’m glad you’re here.”

She practically jumped on him in her enthusiasm to hug.

“I’ve been thinking about our interlude in the supply room all day…” 

“And what conclusions have you drawn?” asked Sherlock as he shed his coat and flopped down on the couch.

“That we need to spend far more time alone…” Molly sat down on his lap and stroked his cheek. 

“Yes, I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Molly sat up straight, prepared for bad news.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said quickly, “but I am getting a lot of slagging from various corners.”

“Gosh, you’d think our friends had nothing better to talk about than our sex life. Everyone’s about 15 internally when you come down to it. Are they being mean?” she said in a mock-sympathetic voice.

“Not mean, but irritating. How would you feel about shutting them up permanently?”

Molly’s eyes widened as she considered it.

“Sherlock, I don’t think hurting them is the answer!”

“You bad girl, I don’t mean hurt them, I mean show them.”

“Show them what exactly?”

“How would you feel about them catching us in the act?”

Molly leaped off Sherlock’s knee and stood facing them, arms akimbo.

“You Are Joking? Right?”

Sherlock shook his head.

“Did you see how embarrassed I was today when John saw me dishevelled? How do you think I would react to being caught in actual flagrante delicto?”

“Nice use of Latin, Dr Hooper, come back over here,” said Sherlock cheekily.

“Now wait just a minute. This is not a plan. Are we quite clear? There will be no video cameras, or setups. In fact, it doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?” he said hopefully.

“No, because I’ve a better idea. We just won’t have sex.”

“That is a deeply flawed plan, Molly. I can’t agree to it. I know we agreed to take it slowly but going at a glacial pace wasn’t on the table. What about a single photo?”

“No way!”

“What about just audio?”

“Again, no! I know there is a celebrity penchant for it but most people do not want any kind of recording of them having sex. And you, Mr Virgin, especially do not want a recording of the first time. Trust me.”

Sherlock had not considered this point.

“It doesn’t have to be the first time. We could wait until we had perfected it.”

“Hmhph!” snorted Molly.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that it could take months of regular practice before we are having “perfect sex”.

“Oh challenge accepted,” said Sherlock.

“Well, why don’t you stay tonight, see how you feel…”

Sherlock didn’t need to be asked twice. He stood up and grabbed her hand, making for the bedroom.

“It’s not time to go to bed yet…” she protested, mildly.

“I think it is.”

In her bedroom, they stood facing each other, suddenly very awkward. 

“This is what I meant, Sherlock. We’re both standing here now: nervous. We need to work up to this.”

He took her in his arms. Plucking at his purple shirt, she said quietly “I love this shirt on you.”

Sherlock smiled at Irene’s astute observations.

“Now take it off,” order Molly, back in charge.

“I’m going to go change into my pyjamas and lock up. Get undressed and into bed and wait for me.”

Sherlock was a little stunned at this sudden assertiveness, though he had to admit it was very appealing. Molly disappeared into the bathroom, when she re-emerged, Sherlock had done as she asked. She was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Looking down at them, she said:

“I wasn’t prepared for sharing a bed with you yet…I might have had my nicer bedclothes ready.”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m going to have them off you in no time,” said Sherlock matter-of-factly.

She stood at the side of the bed.

“Do I need to check for cameras?”

“Of course not! You’ve convinced me.”

“Give me your phone anyway.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

She just held out her hand. Sherlock reluctantly passed over his precious phone and Molly turned it off. He felt a little bereft. It had never been off before. But looking at the lovely woman now getting into a bed with him, it was probably worth it.

“I think we should just cuddle and then go asleep. You can’t just announce “sex” and turn it on like a tap. We need more time to get used to each other.”

“Isn’t that the point of this whole exercise?”

Molly snapped off the light and curled into him, suddenly aware that he was entirely naked under the covers. She turned the light back on.

“Problem?”

“You took off all your clothes.”

“Of course I did…that’s how I sleep, and you did ask me to.”

“I did, didn’t I? I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for me to reciprocate.”

Sherlock’s eyes gleamed as Molly shimmed the shorts off underneath the covers and tossed them on the floor. Then she grabbed hold of her top and, like she was ripping off a plaster, took it off really quickly. She tried to reach for the light but Sherlock stopped her hand.

“Now who’s embarrassed? I’m supposed the nervous one. You’ve nothing to worry about. Whatever happens, it’ll be the best sexual experience of my life.”

“Considering your lack of experience, that is not reassuring, but thank you for trying. I’m just feel self-conscious: all women do.”

“What do you have to be worried about? I think you’re lovely,” said Sherlock, unexpectedly saying the right thing.

Molly reached over and kissed him. Sherlock rolled on top of her. The touch of all her skin was overwhelming…

Ten minutes later they lay side by side.

“You can say it.”

“What?” she replied

“I told you so.”

“I won’t though.”

“Give me my phone.”

“Really, now?” Molly might have been right, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t also be offended.

“Yes, I just need to send one text and then I’m all yours.”

“You’re already all mine. You just took a long time to figure it out.” She handed his phone. He turned it on.

Fine. You win.   
SH

John’s face lit up to match his phone as he read the incoming text.

We’ll talk tomorrow.  
It’ll be ok.  
J.

“What’s the text about?”

“Never mind that now. How shall I begin?” deflected Sherlock.

“First, go and get a bottle of wine…and two glasses…”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: rather than write awkward sex, I thought I’d let everyone imagine one of their own experience, for we surely all have at least one! Thanks for reading. Thanks to Thinkswithpen for beta work & Happy Christmas.


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